Temptation
by Ladybug21
Summary: A fic about the past, and then some, between Jack and Anamaria.  I personally really like this pairing, and I was quite sad that Anamaria disappeared after the first movie, so here's my take on what could have happened.  JackxAnamaria
1. Captivity

Hi Everyone! Well, now that I'm done with _What Dreams May Come,_ I've decided to branch off of a mentioned subplot from that story - the relationship between Jack and Anamaria, and why I think they should have gotten together. I was quite sad when Anamaria didn't come back in DMC and AWE, because I thought that she and Jack would have been quite cute together (sorry, all you Sparrabeth fans out there), so this fic is about their relationship pre-CotBP, and then skips a bit to them getting back together post-AWE. At any rate, please read and review, if the desire so strikes you.

Most everyone already knows it, but I'm putting in a disclaimer anyway to dispel any fear of getting sued - I do not even pretend to own anything related to "Pirates of the Caribbean," for, as much as I would like to be able to call it all my own, it is all property of Disney.

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Temptation

1. Captivity

I stepped out onto the deck this morning, feeling the sea wind whip through my knotted hair, almost tasting the tang of the salt upon my tongue as I climbed the ropes and surveyed the oceans with a weathered eye. The rest of my crew was still snoring below decks, swayed to sleep by the roll of the ship upon the ocean. The sun glinted on the edge of the horizon, peeking over the surface until finally it burst above the waters, a fiery ball of orange.

It's on days like these that I savour my freedom the most, the ability that I have as a pirate captain to sail off into the sunset at will, away from the problems of the poor fools trapped on land. My ship, the _Liberty_, is my escape, my most prized possession, and my life. To think that some simpletons believe that being aboard a ship is like being imprisoned, unable to get away from the confines of the ship, constantly surrounded by the same people and scenery – ha! A ship, I'd like to tell them, is freedom. Nothing is imprisonment, and a ship least of all, to one who has been through the captivity I have. On a ship, one is at least going somewhere, destined to eventually make port, to walk on sturdy ground again, to gain back all that cannot be accessed on the sea.

On a plantation, there is no hope, no port in which one can seek refuge the everlasting storm.

* * *

I was born Anamaria Gibbons on the island of Dominica, near St. Joseph. My mother was a slave who had been chained and shipped to the island from Africa to work on the sugarcane plantations. No one ever told me who my father was, but it was fairly obvious to me even as a young child that I was the illegitimate daughter of the plantation owner – I had lighter skin than any of the other children, and my eyes were very much like his. Many of the slaves hated me for being half-white, and treated me as though I was a traitor to my own people for something that I had absolutely no control over. I didn't receive any favours for it either – the master was even harder on me than the other slaves, perhaps because I was living proof of his infidelity. 

My mother tried to escape with me when I was a baby because I was beginning to look too much like my father and he was talking of selling me. She was caught, and beaten to death by none other than my father, and from then on I was raised by a bitter old couple whom I called my aunt and uncle. I don't remember anything about trying to run, but the other slaves told the story with relish over and over as I grew older, until I had imagined it so often that I almost convinced myself that I remembered.

Growing up, I had to fend for myself. I had few friends due to my half-blood status, and those who did were often wary around me because of my fiery temper and my inability to comply with the rules. I don't know what compelled me to act in such a rebellious manner, perhaps it was because I knew that the whippings I received on account of my back-talking and sass would have been given to me regardless of how I acted. Each beating that was intended to quash a bit more of the life and stubbornness out of me instead stoked the hatred and determination that smouldered within me. Early on in my life, I gained a reputation for being fearless and a bit mad – I took it as a compliment. If I had to pay for sins that were not my own, at least I'd fight back a bit while taking the punishment.

I can't remember how old I was when I began to dream of running away – it seems to me like I'd been dreaming it all my life. I was determined to carry out my destiny the way my mother had wanted me to – as a free woman. But I knew I had to be very careful. The other slaves would have been only too happy to tell the master that I was planning to run, then cluck their tongues when I was dragged back to the plantation and whipped and say to each other, 'Like mother, like daughter.' I knew I could trust no one but myself. And so, after each day of back-breaking work in the sugarcane fields, I began to take long walks almost to the edge of the plantation when I knew no one was looking, familiarizing myself with the lay of the land and plotting my escape. And then, when I felt I knew the surrounding area well enough to be able to evade capture, I sat back and waited for the opportune moment.

* * *

Said opportune moment came not a minute too soon. The master, seeing that I had grown up well enough, was determined to marry me to a slave on the plantation so that I could begin bearing more slaves to serve his every whim. I was only eighteen at the time, but even so I realized that I would rather die than marry a man I did not love and watch my children grow up as miserable and trapped as I was. I waited and waited for a chance to escape, and when it seemed that none would come, I decided it would be better to die than live a life worse than death. The night I resolved myself of this, I was making my way to the barn with a thick rope and a milk bucket, praying that I would die quickly at the end of the noose, when suddenly I heard a great shout come from the slave quarters. I stopped and turned, only to see a towering fire shoot up from the cabins. Figures flitted across the glare of the flames, smoke blurring together the silhouettes and the skeletons of the burning barracks, and I suddenly knew that this was my chance. Abandoning the rope and bucket, I dashed into the jungle of trees that surrounded the plantation, away from the screams and the smell of burning flesh. In the panic and confusion, I hoped that no one would see me leave, and that when I was found to be missing it would be assumed that I had perished in the fire. 

Through the thick mass of trees and vines I ran, fearing that any minute I would hear the dogs behind me and the shouts of bloodthirsty men. I ran without thinking, my being becoming one with the night wind and the stars that studded the clear sky overhead. When I finally reached the edge of St Joseph, I collapsed on the ground, panting and weeping for joy. I had come this far, and I would not allow myself to be caught now.

Trying to act as inconspicuous as possible, I made my way to the docks and stowed away in the pantry of a ship. I did not know where I was going, nor did I care – this was the first time I had ever been on a boat, let alone off of the island, and I was content to be anywhere that was far away and across the sea from my vicious master. At first I jumped in alarm every time I heard a voice nearby, but soon I grew used to the constant banter of the sailors and listened in interest to the gossip they were swapping over their card games – something about pirates and a man named Sparrow who had not and, by their bets, would not ever be caught. Yawning, I wondered briefly if a pirate was much different from a slave, always on the run… but then I reasoned that pirates at least were free to do what they pleased, and go wherever they would go. The idea was rather appealing. I nodded off to sleep smiling.

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Yeah, this is a pretty short chapter, but I assure you, the chapters will get longer, and several other familiar characters will appear, starting next chapter. 


	2. Despair

Disclaimer: All rights belong to Disney. Enough said.

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2. Despair 

I almost made it to the next port undiscovered. But three days after I had boarded the ship, the ship's scrawny, ill-tempered cook burst into the pantry looking for another ration of rum and tripped over my sleeping form. Before I was even properly awake, I found myself surrounded by tough sailors, all smirking in a most menacing way and whispering to each other things I'd rather not imagine. It was all I could do to keep from backing away in fear and pleading for mercy.

'Well, well, what have we here?' sneered the cook nastily. With one greasy hand he grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. 'Looks like we're in for some fun tonight, me lads!'

'Get off me!' I snarled at him through gritted teeth, aiming an accurate kick at his shin. With a grunt, he fell to the ground, and I shoved my way through the clamouring crowd of bewildered sailors and up to the main deck.

I could see a port not too far from where I was, but I'd never been taught to swim – the master had always been afraid that if we learned, we'd be able to escape. I bit my lip nervously, glancing back over my shoulder at the throng of sailors pushing their way onto the deck and hurrying towards me, and then back down towards the murky waters so far below. A gust of wind swept up quite suddenly about me, and I set my jaw in firm resolution. For the moment, I was free, and I swore that I would die free rather than risk being recaptured and sold back into slavery. Taking a deep breath, I jumped.

The water was like ice, and my ragged skirt seemed to absorb more than its fair share of water. I floundered desperately in the waves, clutching at the surface of the water with my hands before slowly sinking under the water. The sunlight glinted through the surface of the sea, and as I inhaled the salty water, I remember thinking that I could not possibly die here below the waves, it was far too beautiful. Multi-coloured fish flitted about my face, streams of bubbles twirling upwards in their wake. I closed my eyes, hoping that I would die soon so that the agony of drowning would soon be over, when suddenly a firm grip about my waist jerked me above the surface of the water. Spluttering and gasping, I worked to catch my breath as the sailor who had retrieved me hissed in my ear, 'Now there, you wouldn't be leavin' us when we're so near the port, would ya?' His breath stunk of rum and rotting meat. 'Consider yourself lucky, though,' he added as his mates slowly pulled us back to the deck. 'If we weren't so near shore, we'd have certainly taken advantage of your company before selling you at the market.' _No_, I thought desperately, willing myself to fight back, to stop him from taking me aboard the ship, to the port and to the slave market, but I was too weak and exhausted, and all I could do was lie limply in his grip and curse my stars for making me so unlucky.

* * *

Within a few hours time, I found myself standing on the slave merchant's block, completely naked except for the shackles that bound me to the platform. I stared out listlessly ahead of me, no longer caring what happened to me, as I was sure to die from despair soon enough anyway. But deep within my pounding heart, I had the sweet knowledge that, if only for a few days, I had been free and under the control of no man. Whatever happened to me now, I had that memory to savour for the rest of my life, however long it was. 

'Open your mouth,' barked the slave merchant, slapping me on the back of the legs with a switch. I winced, returning quickly from my reverie to the goings-on around me. Standing before me was the slave merchant, jowls quivering as he gave me a look from his beady eyes that quite clearly promised another hit with the switch if I did not comply with his orders. Feeling reckless in my desperation, I replied by spitting contemptuously in his face. With a howl of anger, he raised the switch to hit me again, when a small hand caught his wrist and forced it back down to his side.

'Leave her to me,' drawled an arrogant voice. I looked down at its owner, a short man in a white wig and a tri-cornered hat whose mouth curled into a sneer as his eyes looked me over lazily. Something about him, perhaps the challenge displayed in his cold eyes, made me shiver despite the heat.

'Aye, Mr Beckett, sir,' muttered the slave merchant, stepping back and glaring at me. I stared unwaveringly back for a moment before turning my attention to the man now before me.

'What is your name, girl?' I looked scornfully at the little man and did not reply. Suddenly, I found his hand gripping my jaw tightly, his cold eyes only inches from my own. 'Answer me!'

'Anamaria,' I gasped, for his grip was very strong. He let go, and my knees threatened to give out on me. I quickly regained my balance and, taking a deep breath, I shot the man a look of pure hatred that he chose to ignore.

'Her teeth look fine to me,' the little man said in a pleased voice to the slave merchant. 'Tell me the price – I'll take her.' He turned to look at me, the sneer twisting on his face. 'I find her to be quite satisfactory, even if she does need to be tamed.'

If I could have broken my bonds, I would surely have killed both men. I had been free not three hours before, and here I was being bargained for as if I was a horse that needed to be broken, and not a living, breathing person. But I had no choice – the short man handed over his money, the slave merchant grunted in consent, and I was led to the small man's fancy carriage and placed on the back, still shackled. As the whips cracked and the horses began to move, I stared straight ahead, watching bleakly as the docks that had promised freedom so recently slowly faded into the distance. I refused to cry – it would only have given unnecessary satisfaction to my new master – but it was all I could do to keep the tears from escaping the corners of my eyes.

The carriage finally stopped in the shadow of a large whitewashed manor. I glanced uncaringly up at its looming presence, almost as if daring it to do its worst to me. The door of the carriage opened, and out stepped my new master, a pompous smirk on his face.

'No need to look so sullen,' he said to me, quite aware that had he been in my shoes he would have been just as miserable, and not really caring. 'Anamaria, is it?' I nodded, refusing to meet his eyes. 'Well then, Anamaria, I am Cutler Beckett, your new master and the head of the Caribbean branch of the East India Trading Company. Care to get down from that carriage any time soon? I believe the horses need to be watered.'

He was waiting for me to ask him to take the shackles off. I would not give him that satisfaction, that undeniable sign that he owned me. I raised an eyebrow challengingly at him. 'Damn the horses, I'd much prefer to sit here a while longer.'

For some reason, his smirk only widened. Grabbing my arm, he yanked me unceremoniously from the back of the carriage, the chains that bound me clattering to the ground. 'I can already see that you're going to be quite a challenge,' he murmured in my ear. His eyes followed the curve of my waist and hips, and I wished that someone had given me at least a blanket to wrap around myself before I left the market. 'Thank goodness I enjoy a challenge.'

I gave him a contemptuous look and wrested my arm from his grip. He grabbed the chain that bound my wrists and began to lead me up to the manor, talking as he went.

'I actually bought you as a little congratulatory gift to myself,' he explained. 'Earlier this morning, I succeeded in capturing the most notorious pirate in the Caribbean, a feat which cannot be attributed to any other man in any corner of the world.'

'Congratulations,' I said sarcastically, anticipating a blow for my cheek. Instead, the little man stopped and turned to face me.

'I thought you might like to see the first step of his punishment,' Beckett said softly. 'I have no tolerance for those who evade the law and myself, and this should take any thoughts of escape out of your mind.' Without another word, he turned and continued to half-drag me towards the manor, dread growing in my stomach for whatever punishment the man in question was about to receive.

Standing by the entrance was one of the least pleasant-looking men I had ever set eyes on, who gave me a calculating stare as Beckett dragged me towards the door.

'Mr Mercer,' Beckett said to the man, 'bring the prisoner to my study. I would like to give my new piece of property a… demonstration, shall we say, of what happens to people with whom I am not pleased.'

Mercer gave a frightening sneer and walked briskly down the road towards the fort that I could see off in the distance.

'You,' continued Beckett, leading me to a well behind the manor, 'will go and wash up. No matter how dark your skin is, I cannot ignore the dirt and grime that is caking it, and I will not allow any more filth than is necessary into my house. I will have fresh clothes brought out for you while you clean yourself.'

He chained my left leg to the well, and then undid the shackles on my arms and right leg so that I would be able to wash and dress. I fixed him with a stare filled to the brim with loathing as he retreated into the manor through the back door.

As I washed, I finally allowed the despair that was slowly filling me to well up and gush out of my eyes in the form of tears. As much as I hated to admit it, I would have almost preferred to have been back on the plantation, under the tyrannical rule of the master who would have made me marry against my will – I was surprised to find that I loathed this new master, Beckett, more than anyone else I had ever met. I dried my tears as I pulled on the clean clothes that had been brought out for me, and the next moment Beckett had appeared at the back door, looking down at me with an expression of gloating on his face.

'Follow me,' he ordered, replacing the manacles on my wrists and unchaining my leg. Seizing the chain, he pulled me through the back doors, the kitchens, the elaborate dining hall, up a grand staircase above which soared an unlit chandelier, and finally into a neat office with wood paneling on the walls and expensive carpets on the floors. Guards in the smart red uniforms of the British Navy stood at attention on either side of the door. I looked about apprehensively, taking in every detail of the room, and finally I spotted the final figure in the room, the uncatchable pirate whom Beckett had spoken of with such contempt.

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Ugh, I _HATE_ Beckett... but I do love to write him, he's so deliciously evil. (Did I really just say that?!) Plus, it is rather fun to let various characters get their revenge on him... but that's giving some away, so I'll shut up there. 


	3. Torment

And yes, here is the long-awaited introduction of Jack, but I warn you, it's not a happy scene at all. Sorry... but I promise that Jack will be back to his normal, cheery self in chapters to come!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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3. Torment 

The pirate glanced up at me. He could not have been more than a handful of years older than myself – I guessed he was about 25 years old – but his eyes were filled with the cunning and experience that came from years of evasion at sea. His eyes were lined with dark makeup that gave him a curious, exotic look; his hair fell in dreadlocks over the edge of a bandanna tied about his forehead. His clothes were mismatched and varied, giving him the look of a tattered old quilt, and he was fiddling absent-mindedly with one of the gold rings on his finger. Something about him – the casual manner he managed to maintain even when shackled and thrown unceremoniously onto the ground, the mysterious smile that flitted about his lips as if he was thinking of a joke that no one else knew the answer to, the tiny wink he gave me when he saw me staring at his predicament in horror – something captured my imagination and made me wonder if there was any chance at all of him surviving his capture and whatever Beckett had in store for him.

'Jack Sparrow,' sneered Beckett, striding over to the pirate, who sat up and gave his captor an unconcerned look. 'So nice to finally see you face to face again.'

'Wish I could say the same,' said the pirate, 'but I must say, you do have a funny way of making people feel at home, don't you?' He gave a shrug that made the handcuffs that bound him clank ominously.

'Sparrow, you are charged with piracy, the sentence for which, as you may know, is death. Now I could tell you to defend yourself, to plead "not guilty" to all charges, but we all know that that would be so false as to be laughable, don't we?' Beckett gave the pirate a sinister smile as he strode slowly over to the fireplace. 'So I thought I might spare you the trouble and inform you that you will be hanged by the neck until dead tomorrow morning at dawn, and that any attempt at escape will be most futile in every respect.'

The pirate raised one eyebrow. 'Perhaps you think so, but you're forgetting one very important thing, mate.' He threw his hands up into a careless shrug. 'I'm Captain Jack Sparrow.'

'And that means you're invincible, does it?' Beckett smirked again. 'We'll put that theory to the test tomorrow, shall we not, Sparrow? But, for the moment, I do believe we can test whether or not you understand the meaning of pain.'

In a flash, he had drawn a brand from the fire, the ornate 'P' at the end still glowing a fiery orange. I stifled a scream as, horrified, I watched Beckett press it hard into the arm of the pirate sitting at his feet. The pirate gave a yell of shock and fell over, clutching his arm, but attempting to make no other sound. The air fizzled with the acrid smell of burning flesh. Beckett tossed the brand carelessly back into the fire, smiling at his victim's obvious pain.

'Ah, yes, the downside to being a pirate,' he said softly. 'Perhaps now you can appreciate the many people who have been killed or wounded thanks to vermin like yourself. But I have to wonder, you're not making any noise, and people who are truly in pain usually scream and writhe – have I not made the message clear enough, then?' The pirate grunted as Beckett kicked him in the face, then spat out a few bloody teeth, a slight groan escaping him.

'Stop it! Leave him alone!' I screamed, attempting to run at Beckett. I had had enough – the poor man was obviously in a great deal of pain, as Beckett knew well, and any silence on the pirate's part was simply a testament to his bravery in the face of death and humiliation, even a brute like Beckett should have been able to appreciate that. But before I had taken two steps towards my new master, the detestable Mercer grabbed me from behind, sniggering evilly. I stepped hard on his toe – he spat out a curse, but did not relinquish his hold on me.

Beckett turned and regarded me with something akin to amusement sparkling in his merciless eyes. 'I'd almost forgotten you were here,' he said casually, placing a boot on the pirate's throat and beginning to slowly press down. 'Still thinking about running away? I assure you, I could do far worse to you if you tried to escape and were caught… and rest assured that should you escape, you would be recaptured.'

I stared in terror as the pirate gasped for breath, a strange gargling noise erupting from his throat as Beckett pressed down harder on his throat and more blood trickled from the edge of his mouth down the side of his face. 'Please, don't kill him,' I whispered, willing myself not to cry but finding it very difficult in light of the torture that was taking place before my eyes.

Beckett looked down nonchalantly. 'I suppose you're right,' he sighed, removing his boot somewhat reluctantly. 'It would be a pity to accidentally kill him before his appointed execution, wouldn't it?' He kicked the pirate again, in the ribs this time – I winced as I heard one crack. 'So I suppose the most I can do right now would be to let him watch his personal belongings burn, if I find I have no use for them.'

He picked up four items lying on his desk, turning each over as he examined it. 'A pistol… not a bad balance, I might have to keep it for myself…' He placed the pistol back on the desk. 'A sword… rubbish, but it wouldn't burn anyway, I'll have it buried with you as a testament to your marauding days, shall I, Sparrow?' He tossed the sword back onto the desk with a loud clang and picked up the next item. 'Your hat, and an ugly hat it is if I ever saw one.' The pirate gave a moan of sadness as Beckett tossed it into the flames, where it sent up an array of sparks before being devoured by the flames. I glanced at the pirate's face – a look of such sadness was in his eyes that I wondered why the hat had meant so much to him. Beckett, unfortunately, had noticed the expression on the pirate's face too, and his smile of loathing had only broadened.

'Funny that a man who has made a career of taking and destroying the property of others should be so distraught to have the same done to him,' sneered Beckett. He picked up the last item – a battered compass – and flipped it open. He gave a slight snort of condescending laughter.

'I suppose you won't even mind if this goes to the flames,' he said to the pirate, who was still recovering from the loss of his hat. 'This compass is useless, it doesn't even point north.' He drew back his hand to toss the compass into the fire.

'Wait!' gasped the pirate, grabbing for Beckett's ankle feebly. Beckett's hand stopped in midair, the compass dangling from his fingers by the string attached to it; the pirate's eyes followed the swinging compass as if he was being hypnotized.

'Going to plead, are we, Sparrow?' taunted Beckett. 'Funny, your priorities – you won't plead for your life, but you will beg me not to destroy a broken compass.'

'It's not… broken…' The pirate dragged himself forward, wincing in pain as his broken rib moved over the hard floor. 'It's not meant to point north.'

Beckett raised his eyebrows. 'And where is it supposed to point, may I ask?'

The pirate had reached Beckett's feet by this point, and lay there panting. Finally, he looked up at Beckett, a glimmer of something that I couldn't quite place shining in his eyes. 'It points to the thing you want most in this world.'

'Does it really?' said Beckett in a bored voice. He flipped the compass open and regarded it with a bored stare. Within seconds, though, his brow furrowed as Beckett, perplexed, looked from the pirate lying by his feet to me and then back. 'A valuable piece of property, no doubt,' he said softly, flipping the compass closed and placing it carefully on the table next to the pirate's pistol. 'I daresay it will make destroying piracy on the high seas all the more easy. Thank you, Sparrow, for providing me with the very weapon I need to rid the world of your kind.' He turned to Mercer. 'Please take our prisoner back to the fort as he awaits his execution tomorrow.'

Mercer released his grip on my arm. I had been shaking so much while Beckett tortured the poor pirate that my knees gave out underneath me and I fell to the floor, eye to eye with the pirate, who attempted to give me a brave smile before Mercer pulled him roughly to his feet and lead him out of the room, the guards at the door following.

Trembling, I rose to my feet. Beckett was turned towards the fire, and I thought that perhaps I could sneak out of the room unnoticed and run for my life, but before I had taken two steps across the room, he spoke.

'I hope you have found this instructive, Anamaria. Now, if you please, go down to the kitchens, where my cook will show you the slave quarters and you can have something to eat. I will expect you back in my office after I have had my supper so I may tell you what your duties will be. You may go.'

I needed no second bidding. Glancing one last time down at the spot where the pirate had lain clutching his arm in agony, I walked quickly out the door and broke into a run as soon as I thought I was out of earshot.


	4. Rescue

OK, last chapter with Jack acting serious and most un-Jack-like. And, as a warning, this chapter gets a bit... erm, morally questionable, shall we say, on Beckett's part (OK, well, one could say the same for the last chapter too, but still...) So, even though nothing too bad happens, just thought I'd throw that out - you have been warned. Disney still owns everything, curse them.

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4. Rescue 

In the kitchens I met Juliana, Beckett's old cook. She was a stout woman with graying hair, light brown skin, and a stern face hardened by years of abuse and fear, yet her brown eyes were kind and understanding. When I appeared in the doorway, still shaking fretfully, she immediately sat me down at a wooden bench and put a cup of warm tea into my manacled hands.

'There, there, miss,' she said comfortingly, and asked me how I had ended up in Beckett's service. And so, between sniffing back tears and sipping tea, I told her about my few days of freedom and my recapture and sale. By the time I was done, she was looking at me with concern.

'If Beckett considers you to be a gift to himself, it's not a good sign,' she said ominously, rising to her feet and bustling across the kitchen to fetch me a bowl of soup and a chicken leg. 'I do all of his work for him – cleaning, laundry, cooking – so unless he's been kind enough to send me an assistant – unlikely – he's most likely bought you for your body.'

I choked on a mouthful of tea. 'Please tell me you're not serious,' I gasped.

Juliana slid my food across the table. 'Miss Anamaria, I wish I could,' she sighed. 'Now eat up – whatever the master's got planned for you, you don't wanna go into it weak from hunger.'

But I couldn't eat. I picked at my food nervously, trying not to imagine exactly what sort of horrible fate Beckett had planned for me when I went upstairs. I thought several times about making a run for it, but then I remembered what Beckett had said to me: _Still thinking about running away? I assure you, I could do far worse to you if you tried to escape and were caught… and rest assured that should you escape, you would be recaptured… _Was I brave enough to face the tortures that I had witnessed this afternoon? I shook my head desperately, feeling the world shrinking in around me as I realized that even after torturing me, Beckett would still be heartless enough to have his way with me. Following the instructions he had given me was the least painful thing to do.

And so, when I had finished what I could of my dinner, I slowly climbed the staircase up to Beckett's office, fighting to keep down the dread I felt. The sky outside the windows was stained blood-red by the setting sun, and for some reason I thought briefly of the pirate I had seen Beckett torture, the one who would hang the next day – I wondered if he was looking out on the same sky I was, watching the last sunset he would ever see. But the next moment I arrived at the office door, and all thoughts of the doomed pirate sped from my mind. Steeling myself with a deep breath, I knocked softly on the door.

'Come in,' drawled the imperious voice I had so come to hate. I opened the door to find Beckett seated at his desk, signing papers with one hand and sipping daintily from a cup of tea with his other. The pirate's sword, pistol, and compass still lay on top of the desk. I edged cautiously into the room, the chains that bound my hands clattering.

'Close the door, will you,' ordered Beckett without looking up at me. I pushed the door closed with one foot. The following silence was broken only by the scratching of Beckett's quill as he finished signing the papers on his desk.

'When do you plan to take these off me?' I asked finally, more to break the silence than anything else. I was pleased to find that I sounded as brazen and fearless as ever, even though it was all I could do to suppress the panic that was trying to claw its way up from my gut.

Beckett finally put down his quill. Rising, he walked around his desk slowly and crossed the room until he was only a pace away from me, pulling off his jacket as he did so and discarding it on the floor.

'You will wear those shackles until I am convinced that you will not attempt to escape,' he said softly. 'Until then…' He pulled a small key out of his pocket and dangled it tauntingly in front of my face. 'I will not unlock them.'

Although I knew there was no hope of escape, I grabbed for the key as Beckett slid it back into his pocket. Before I knew what was happening, he had grabbed my wrists and forced me against the wall, holding my hands captive above my head with the chain that bound them.

'Ah, see?' he murmured. 'Still determined to escape, even after I showed you what I do to runaways.' He smiled sinisterly. 'I told you I like a challenge.' He wrapped one arm around my waist and began to undo my skirt – I stiffened at his touch. 'I like to watch their will break, slowly but surely, as they come to accept I am their master.'

'Get off me!' I hissed, spitting directly in his face. His eyes flashed with uncontrolled anger and he slapped me hard across the face so that I actually saw lights flash before my eyes.

'You will learn to fear me!' he spat, throwing me brutally onto the floor, where I lay gasping for breath. 'Before this night is over, there will be no doubt in your mind as to whom you belong to!' I closed my eyes tight, wishing that I was dead so I would not have to endure whatever he was about to do to me.

But whatever blow I had expected did not come. Instead, I heard Beckett gasp, 'You!' Opening my eyes, I saw Beckett standing with one arm raised, no doubt with which to strike me again, but he was instead staring in bewilderment at the man who held his wrist in a firm grasp. I too gasped. It was the pirate who had only hours before been lying exactly where I was, defenseless and fearful, on the floor of Beckett's office.

'You know, the more I see of you, the less I like of you,' said the pirate in a conversational tone. 'Seems you don't like to talk to people in your office unless they have at least one set of shackles on, am I right?' Beckett was starting to get over his shock, and was raising his free hand to deliver another blow to the pirate's already bruised face, when, quick as lightning, the pirate leapt over to the table and snatched up his pistol, pointing it directly between Beckett's eyes and cocking it with a loud click.

'What do you want?' said Beckett coolly, though his clenched fists betrayed his fear.

'Ah, now see, I much prefer these circumstances for bargaining,' said the pirate. 'What I've come for is my effects, which I will take back, thank you very much.' Saying so, he slid his sword back into his belt and stowed his compass in a deep pocket of his jacket, never taking his eyes from Beckett's face as he did so. 'And, seeing as you've burned my hat, I think I might just have to take one of yours, won't I?' He picked up a hat that was lying on a nearby chair and glanced at it appraisingly before making a non-committal noise and placing it lopsidedly onto his head. 'It'll have to do. And now, what was that last thing I was supposed to do?' The pirate scratched his chin, pretending to be thinking hard. 'Ah, that was it. I'm supposed to kill you.' He raised the pistol a little higher and took aim with one eye closed.

'Sparrow!' said Beckett hurriedly. 'And what do expect will come of your killing me? You have no way of getting off this island – surely you knew we destroyed your ship?'

'Ah,' agreed the pirate, nodding his head. 'Then I'll need you to write me a safe passage aboard a ship before I leave your office, won't you, or else…' He clicked the hammer of his pistol again in warning.

A dark look clouding his face, Beckett walked slowly over to his desk and took up his quill in one hand. The pirate backed away to the other side of the desk, still holding the pistol at Beckett's head. As I watched Beckett scratch away at a piece of paper with his right hand, I saw his left hand open a small drawer on his side of the desk and pull out a small knife. There was no way the pirate could have seen it. As quietly as I could, I rose to my feet.

'Thank you very much,' said the pirate, holding out his hand for the letter Beckett had just finished writing. Staring impassively at the pirate, Beckett slowly handed over the paper, and then everything started happening very quickly, all at once.

In a flash of metal, Beckett raised the knife he held in his left hand and made to stab at the pirate who had just taken the paper from him. At the same time, I threw my arms around the front of Beckett's neck so that the chain that bound my wrists caught him about the throat. Grunting, he flailed his arms about, trying to free himself, and in an instant I felt a searing pain in my left side. With a cry, I fell backwards, Beckett toppling over on top of me, still thrashing as he fought for breath until, quite suddenly, he froze. Panting, I peered over his shoulder to see the pirate standing between Beckett and the fire, one hand holding the tip of his sword to Beckett's throat, the other clutching the handle of the same brand that had been pressed to his skin earlier that day.

'Frightening, isn't it?' said the pirate softly. 'It hurts more than you can imagine.'

'You wouldn't dare,' Beckett attempted to snap, the quaver in his voice making his panic obvious.

'I wouldn't, would I?' The pirate laughed darkly. 'There's no one that will hear you scream, save for me and this lovely lady here, unless you keep Mercer hidden away in a closet somewhere, a thought that I don't really want to contemplate on several levels. You can let him go, love,' the pirate added to me, and, with a jerky nod, I pulled my arms over Beckett's head and dragged myself backwards, trying to ignore the piercing pain in my side when I moved, nor the warm liquid that was drenching my dress…

'Just be glad I've decided not to turn you into a eunuch,' the pirate was saying menacingly. 'This is no more than what you've given me, and, seeing as I'm a decent person, I'll save you the humiliation of having it in a place that everyone else will see, though your forehead does look rather tempting.' Beckett stared up at the pirate in abject terror as the pirate furrowed his brow in thought. 'Ah, well then,' he said after a moment with a shrug, 'I just hope it hurts for quite some time.' And in one movement he whipped the white-hot brand out of the fire and lunged, pushing it hard onto Beckett's flesh, just above his heart. His scream was terrible to hear, even for someone who hated him as much as I did, and I was quite thankful when he passed out from the pain.

My vision was beginning to blur over a bit when the pirate stepped nonchalantly over Beckett's unconscious body and offered me a hand up. 'You all right, there?' he asked. To my surprise, there was genuine concern in his voice.

'Fine,' I gasped, trying to take a step and stumbling. 'Thank you,' I muttered as he caught me by the arm.

'Any way to get these off you?' he asked, frowning at the shackles about my wrists.

'His pocket,' I whispered, 'there's a key.' I swayed unsteadily on my feet as the pirate went to retrieve the key, and had collapsed to the floor by the time he returned to unlock the chains that held me captive.

'You saved me,' I mumbled as he turned the key in the lock. 'Thank you.'

'You'd have done the same for me, love, earlier today,' he replied. 'I saw it in your eyes, even if you were in no position to offer any help.' As he tossed the iron handcuffs across the room, I saw a shadow cross his face. 'You're hurt,' he said, touching me lightly on the left side.

I tried to smile and opened my mouth to assure him that I would be fine, even though I was not so sure myself, but just then the world went completely fuzzy, and the next moment everything went black.

* * *

Muwaha. OK, sorry, I just love watching Beckett get what's coming to him... score one for the pirates!!! Yeah, so that whole scene was in response to the unanswered question from DMC of what mark Jack left on Beckett... took me a while to think something up, but I figured more than anything else in the world, Beckett would hate being branded as a pirate, and it could also explain why instead of just answering Will and sparing us the agony of trying to figure out what he would have said, Beckett just keeps staring at the brand. That's just my take on it, though. 


	5. Adrift

I am pleased to announce that Jack is now back to normal, and will be his usual cheeky self from now on. And I honestly have no idea how long it takes to sail about to different Caribbean islands in a rowboat, so bear with me on that count, please - willing suspension of disbelief, and all that. Please read and review!

Disclaimer: All belongs to Disney.

* * *

5. Adrift 

When I awoke, I found myself looking up at the bright blue Caribbean sky. For a moment, I wondered briefly if I had died, but the next moment a sharp pain in my side dissuaded me from that theory. Groaning, I sat up as best I could on my elbows and looked about me. I was taking up most of the bottom of a tiny boat, just big enough for two people, bobbing up and down in the waves. Crouched at the other end of the boat was the pirate, doing his best to row the boat with a pair of short oars.

'Ah, you're awake,' he said cheerily as I took in my surroundings with a look of surprise etched all over my face. 'Well then, if it won't hurt too much, would you mind pulling your legs in a bit so I can have a bit more room?'

I immediately pulled my legs to my chest, wincing at the stab in my side as I did so.

'That's better,' sighed the pirate, stretching out his legs a bit and continuing to row. In the daylight, I could see that he had an immense black eye that was a startling shade of purple, as well as a puffy lower lip and a number of cuts on his face. Remembering the beating he had taken at Beckett's hand, I flinched involuntarily.

'Where are we?' I asked. It was just one of the many questions that were going through my head, but as there was no land to be seen and I did not know how to swim, it seemed like one of the more relevant ones.

The pirate shrugged. 'No idea, love,' he answered without a trace of concern, 'but you can help me on that account in a minute. I suppose you'll be wanting to know _why_ we are here next, no?'

I nodded, not really caring in what order my questions were answered, as long as they all were answered.

The pirate laid the oars aside for a minute, rested his arms on top of his knees, rested his chin on top of his hands, and, with a smile, began to talk.

'Well, just after you went out on the floor of Beckett's office, this old cook comes bustling in, fretting about the fact she heard screaming. She stops dead short when she sees Beckett sprawled out cold on the ground, then when she sees you with a knife sticking out of your side. How did that happen, if you don't mind me asking?' the pirate added.

I rubbed my side unconsciously. 'Beckett had a knife,' I recalled slowly. 'He pulled it out of his desk drawer while he was signing the letter you told him to write, and that's why I grabbed him from behind, so he wouldn't kill you. I suppose he must have stabbed me some time while I was trying to strangle him.'

The idea that I had been trying to kill a man struck me as immoral, and I frowned slightly. The pirate noticed and winked at me. 'Tit for tat, love, he was going to kill me, you had every right to try to do him in first. Nothing to be ashamed of, just one of those little survival things, savvy?' Without waiting for an answer, he continued on with his story.

'So the cook comes in, sees you with a knife sticking out of your side, and picks you up and carries you downstairs. She cleans out the wound, bandages you up, shoves a sack of vittles into my arms, and tells me that I need to get you out of there as quick as possible. "Don't wanna watch her grow old and weary like me, trapped within these walls," she says to me, "you take her with you, and you teach her how to be free and stay free." So I go down to the docks with you in tow – and that was not an easy task, I'll tell you, love, seeing as my rib is almost certainly broken – and manage to get us a passage aboard a ship. Told the man at the docks you were my sick slave, and we needed to get you to Cuba for a doctor as fast as possible.'

'So how did we end up on this boat, then?' I cut in, a bit resentful due to the fact that being aboard a large ship somehow made the danger of drowning seem a lot smaller than being in a small rowboat.

'Because it would have been all too obvious come daylight that you were not sick, you were a runaway slave with a serious injury, and then where would we have been? Good thing the man who secured me a passage was a right idiot – only reason he let us on was because I had a letter signed by Beckett and I was wearing a hat typical of the East India Trading Company.' The pirate pulled off the hat he had stolen from Beckett and examined it with distaste. ''Course, it could stand for a little less brocade and feathers – what do they think I am, a Mardi Gras float?' Scowling, the pirate began to tear the offending embellishments off of the hat.

'So you stole a rowboat,' I finished.

The pirate stopped tearing apart the hat for a minute and raised an eyebrow at me. '_Commandeered_ a rowboat,' he corrected. 'Borrowed it without permission, if you like.'

I laughed in spite of myself, and quickly stopped when I realized that laughter did not at all agree with the wound on my side. 'I'm Anamaria,' I said, holding out a hand, which the pirate took.

'Captain Jack Sparrow,' he replied, shaking my hand solemnly for a moment before letting it go. For some reason, it felt as though my fingers tingled for a bit where Jack Sparrow had touched them, even after he had resumed plucking feathers from the hat that was formerly Beckett's.

'Where did the old hat come from?' I asked curiously, remembering the pained look in the pirate's eyes as the flames devoured it.

'My father,' grunted Jack Sparrow, not looking up. 'Last bloody thing he gave me before I ran away. Hasn't spoken to me since – thought I'd at least have that to remember him by, even if he himself refuses to acknowledge my existence.' He plucked the last of the feathers from the hat and held it up. 'There, much better.' He placed it on his head happily. In my opinion, once de-feathered it looked exactly like his old hat had, albeit less worn and faded.

'So, you said you didn't know where we were going,' I reminded him, deciding to drop the matter of the hat, as it seemed to be a rather touchy subject.

'Ah, yes,' said Jack Sparrow, holding up a finger. 'And this, dear Anamaria, is where you come in.' He drew from his jacket the compass that he had taken back from Beckett and put it into my hand. 'Strange as it may sound, I wasn't lying to Beckett about this compass. So now all you need to do is decide on what you want most in this world.'

I raised an eyebrow at the pirate. He was asking _me_ to choose where we would sail? What I wanted most in the world… yes, I knew what that was, but how can a compass point to freedom?

'And what am I supposed to be wanting most in this world?' I asked him finally, deciding that this had to be trick question. His smile widened.

'A multitude of things, love. A good drink, maybe, or a warm bed to sleep in. Somewhere where you can stop for a bit and wait for that side of yours to patch itself up, perhaps. Maybe you want to go somewhere where Beckett will never find you, somewhere where it's easy to disappear, savvy? A place where there are no rules, and therefore no one will care what the colour of your skin is. Or,' he looked up into the sky, 'somewhere where it is easy to gain possession of a ship with which to go sailing off across the oceans for the rest of all time, free as the wind.'

I sat staring out at the clouds for some time, feeling overwhelmed by possibilities and trying to ignore the dully throbbing pain in my side. 'Do such places exist?' I asked after a long moment of contemplation.

The pirate clapped his hands in delight. 'Better than that, love – they all exist as one place.' He flipped open the lid of the compass as watched nervously as its point swung round until it finally shuddered to a halt at one point. He looked up at me, mischief glinting in his eyes. 'Tortuga it is, then,' he exclaimed, seizing the oars and beginning to row furiously. I suddenly felt exhausted, and slumped against side of the rowboat, too tired to even bother asking where Tortuga was. I watched the pirate row steadily on until my eyelids became too heavy and I dropped off to sleep.

* * *

The next four days passed in dreary monotony. I felt quite bad that I could not help Jack row the boat (I imagined his broken rib had to hurt nearly as much as my wound), but whenever I began to apologize, he just smiled and told me to keep quiet or he _would_ make me row for a bit. At regular intervals we would eat some of the food that Juliana had packed for us, and every evening together we watched the sun set, sending shimmers of gold across the water towards our boat while overhead the sky faded through a spectrum of vivid colors. Although still greatly weakened from my injury, I felt more alive than I ever had – I woke up every morning with the sea breeze on my face and no fear at all. 

Meanwhile, I had become more and more fascinated with Captain Jack Sparrow – the curious way he moved, as if he was constantly trying to keep his balance on a swaying boat, his motley assortment of distinctive clothes, his habits of calling me 'love' and ending sentences with either a 'savvy?' or an 'eh?' I had never met anyone like him before, and was certain I never would meet anyone else like him in my life. The man seemed to take everything in stride as it came, and did not once fret over any of his injuries during the time we were on the rowboat. He rarely took off the hat he had stolen from Beckett, as if afraid that he would lose it too if he did, and he kept his sword and pistol on him at all times.

'Why didn't you just shoot Beckett?' I asked him on our second day out at sea, watching him take a break in rowing to carefully clean his pistol. 'You had your pistol on you, didn't you?'

Jack frowned. 'Now try to understand this if you can, love – there's only one shot in this pistol. And with only one shot, a man needs to choose his fights carefully.'

'What does that mean?' I asked, irritated that he would not just give me a straight answer.

He looked up at me for a long moment, then sighed. 'It means that the only person I'm going to waste this bullet on is the man who left me stranded on an island with naught but this pistol, and sailed away with my ship.' Although his voice was cold with suppressed anger, his eyes misted over slightly at the mention of this last item.

'Your ship,' I repeated. 'So why do you still call yourself "Captain Jack Sparrow" if you don't have a ship any more?'

The pirate laughed. 'Because, Miss Anamaria, I fully intend to get my ship back. Why do you think I can't find Tortuga myself using my compass?' And he went back to polishing the handle of his pistol without another word. I could do nothing else but sit back and smile in amusement at the man who was turning what should have been a terrifically boring voyage into the most perplexing days of my life.

* * *

After five days of drifting about at sea, I had almost given up hope of ever seeing land again, when late one afternoon I heard Jack shout, 'Land ho!' I sat up so quickly that my side began burning in agony, but I barely noticed the pain – just within eyesight, a black speck sitting on the waves informed me that we were soon to land on Tortuga. 

'We made it!' I cried, all too eager to be back on solid ground. I beamed at the pirate. 'How can I ever thank you, Captain Sparrow?'

Jack snorted. 'Don't,' he said. 'I would never have been able to get back here if not for you.' He began to row a little faster.

'So what are you planning to do here?' I asked him. I suddenly realized that I had no idea how I would be received on this island, and I found myself wishing that Jack would stay with me until I had recovered, although I knew I would never have the nerve to ask him to, he had already done so much for me.

'What else?' Jack grinned. 'Find me a crew, procure a ship, and go after my _Pearl_.' He winced slightly as he hit himself in the rib with one of the oars in his excitement. 'Should probably wait till this is better, though,' he grumbled, looking thoroughly put out. I tried to fix my face into a look of sympathy, but inside my heart soared.

'You and me together, then?' I said, gesturing towards my wounded left side and trying to sound nonchalant. 'Look,' I said, leaning forward, 'I'm not going to know a soul on this island, and… just while you're recovering, I mean, I was wondering if…'

'If you could stay around and learn the ropes of pirating, you mean?' I stopped and tried to read the expression on Jack's blank face. Finally he shrugged one shoulder. 'I suppose I owe you for saving my life, don't I. Fine, then, we have an accord.'

I felt my face split into a wide smile. 'Thank you, Jack,' I breathed.

'_Captain _Jack,' corrected the pirate with a wink.

* * *

And, for those of you who thought you recognized the comment about the Mardi Gras float, yes, that is based on a hilarious comment that Jack Davenport makes about his costume in the commentary for CotBP - for all of you who haven't watched that commentary (the one with Keira Knightley and Jack Davenport), I HIGHLY recommend it, it's extremely funny! On that note, for all of you Johnny Depp fans, I'm sure most of you have seen this already, but for those of you who haven't, watch the deleted scene 'The French' on the CotBP DVD - it has me rolling on the floor, laughing my head off every time I watch it (even when I'm in a very bad mood). WATCH IT. 


	6. Recovery

Ah, Tortuga. Smashing place. (Not.) Well, here's a few scenes, some of which involve our dear Jack-slapping prostitutes. A bit of good fun, in my opinion. Please enjoy, read, review, whatever. _Comme toujours, _everything is Disney's.

* * *

6. Recovery 

I had never seen any place like Tortuga before.

We landed at dusk, and the first thing that I saw were two obviously drunk men on the quay who were throwing off-balanced punches at each other's faces. Jack saw my look of alarm and smiled reassuringly at me. 'Only gets better from here, love,' he said, and helped me out of the rowboat. Staggering a bit on my cramped legs, I followed him, wondering if 'better' in his book meant more rowdy or less.

To my distaste, Jack's perception turned out to be the former. The tavern we entered was filled with drunkards pouring rum into their throats by the tankard, saucy prostitutes flouncing about before lewd-eyed sailors, and intoxicated brawlers whacking anyone who came within a few feet of them with chairs, swords, fists, or whatever else was available. I sat down at a bench, trying my hardest to look inconspicuous as Jack wove over to the bar and ordered two mugs of rum.

'You there!' slurred a dirty-faced man, tripping over his feet and throwing an arm around my shoulders to steady himself. I wrinkled his noise at the foul odour that reeked on his breath. 'How'd you like to come with me back to my…'

'Let her alone, she's with me,' I heard Jack say sternly as he returned with the mugs of rum in one hand and his sword drawn in the other. Grumbling in disappointment, the dirty man slouched away, and Jack slid onto the bench opposite me.

'Cheers,' he said happily, raising his mug and taking a long swig. 'No need to look so startled, love,' he said, putting his mug down on the table with a dull thud and raising his eyebrows at me. 'Didn't I mention that Tortuga's a pirate port? Lots of shady and untrustworthy folk about…'

'Jack Sparrow!' said a voluptuous red-headed hussy, rustling her skirts as she strode over to our table. She fixed Jack with a dazzling smile, which he returned nervously, and then noticed me. 'Who's she?' she asked, her eyes narrowing as I tried my best to look neither threatening nor weak.

Jack cleared his throat. 'Erm, Scarlett, this is my friend Anamaria. Got her out of a spot of trouble concerning the East India Trading Company and we've both come to stay on Tortuga while we recover from what injuries we sustained.'

The prostitute had stopped glaring at me and had her full attention trained on Jack. 'Oh, Jack,' she gasped, stroking his cheek with her hand, 'how brave of you… and, what's this? Oh, you've got a black eye, poor baby… Giselle!' She waved her hand and another hussy, this one blonde, sauntered over. 'Look at what's happened to poor Jack!'

Giselle gave a sympathetic coo, and she too began to pet Jack on the head, her lips pursed in a tiny pout. 'Jack Sparrow, you've got to stop getting yourself into these fixes! What did you do this time, take out the whole Navy by yourself?'

'Rescued her,' said Scarlett, jerking her head in my direction without looking at me. Giselle too shot me a less-than-friendly look before looking back down at Jack.

'Well, you come with Scarlett and me, Jack, and we'll take care of all your physical problems,' she said, rubbing her hand slowly down his back as Scarlett leaned in a bit towards his face.

Jack glanced at me apologetically and coughed. 'Sorry, ladies, but… I've got a broken rib that needs setting.'

The prostitutes pouted. 'We promise we won't be too rough…' began Giselle, but Jack waved his hands hurriedly in the air and said, 'No, no, it really doesn't feel at all well… I'll get it fixed and catch up with you two lovely ladies later, savvy?' And, quickly downing the rest of his rum, he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out the door of the tavern.

'Sorry about that,' he muttered to me, 'old acquaintances, you know, not too friendly towards people they haven't met before…'

I nodded, tight-lipped. For some reason, I was not irritated half so much by the unfriendly way they had treated me as I had been by the fact that they obviously had known Jack more than just as acquaintances in the past.

Jack pulled me down several dark alleyways, past more taverns, pig sties, and sword shops, until we finally stopped outside of a dingy inn. 'In we go,' said Jack, holding the door open for me. I stepped into a dusty room filled with a few dilapidated chairs and tables. 'Two rooms, please,' said Jack, slapping some coins down upon the counter. The innkeeper grunted and nodded for us to go upstairs.

Jack showed me into a small room with a lumpy bed and a small table next to the window. 'I'll be just across the way, if anything happens,' he told me.

'Jack, I'm… I'm sorry, but I haven't got any money to pay you back for the room, and the rum,' I began, but Jack snorted and waved his hand in the air.

'Not to worry, love.' He pulled a small purse out of his pocket and shook it, smiling in satisfaction at the jingle it made. 'Stole it off of Scarlett when she wasn't looking,' he explained. 'Ought to cover a doctor and a week or so of lodgings. So don't fret about anything to do with cost – this is Tortuga, no one carries his own money with him!'

I smiled weakly. 'Thank you,' I whispered. 'Good night, Jack.'

'Night, love,' said Jack, pocketing Scarlett's purse. He tipped his hat at me before turning on his heel and striding into his room, closing the door with a sharp snap.

* * *

I woke up the next morning when someone rapped loudly on the door of my room and entered without waiting for a response. 

'Morning, love,' said Jack's voice cheerily, pulling the curtains away from the grimy window as I pulled the blankets up over my head. 'Brought the doctor here to see you – might want to wake up some time soon.'

With a sleepy groan, I poked my head out from under the blanket, blinking at the disgruntled-looking little man seated beside my bed. 'Well, come on, now, show me this flesh wound of yours, I haven't got all day,' he wheezed, pulling a pair of spectacles out of his bag and perching them on the end of his nose.

I raised an eyebrow at Jack. 'Do you mind?' I asked pointedly. Jack looked questioningly at me for a moment, and then scooted out of the room.

The doctor examined my side with his lips pursed in concentration. 'Hmm… you received this injury five days ago?' he asked. I nodded, inhaling sharply as he poked at the gaping wound. 'You're quite lucky, you know – no important internal organs pierced, by the looks of it, no sign of infection, even though these bandages haven't been changed in quite some time, and it's healing up as well as possible. I assume you've been resting, not exerting yourself in any way?'

I nodded, deciding that lying in the bottom of a rowboat for several days could be counted as rest.

'Good, good,' muttered the doctor, snapping his bag closed and standing up. 'Well, I'll change those bandages for you and wash out that cut. You stay here in bed for the next few days, don't go running about if you don't want that to reopen…' Still muttering to himself, the doctor walked out of the room. Less than a minute after the door clicked shut behind him, I heard the handle turn and looked up to see Jack creeping back in.

'Jack!' I whispered furiously, pulling the covers up over me.

'You'll be all right, then?' he asked unabashedly, sitting down on the edge of my bed.

'Yes, but I'm not supposed to go out and about in the town for the next few days, he's afraid that the wound will open back up.' I glanced towards the door. 'Are you sure that doctor is completely reliable, Jack?'

''Course I'm sure,' said Jack, sounding slightly offended. 'Best doctor in town. Patched up just about every kind of injury in his time – you wouldn't believe some of the ways people have managed to win bar fights around here… and, here, don't believe me, look at this.' Jack pulled open his shirt to reveal several wounds on his chest clearly made by bullets. 'Courtesy of the East India Trading Company,' he explained, 'nearly killed me a few years back, and probably would have, if I hadn't managed to get to Tortuga in time. Still not convinced?' he asked, grinning wickedly.

I sighed, slightly mollified. 'And how are you, Jack?' I asked, feeling slightly bad that I hadn't had the manners to ask before now.

Jack shrugged. 'Been better, been worse,' he answered airily. 'Going to go see if I can have a few teeth put in to replace the ones Beckett got rid of for me.'

'Is your rib all right?' I asked, undeterred. Jack smiled sheepishly at me.

'Just cracked. Not too bad.' I looked at him, unconvinced. 'All right, now don't you go telling the doctor about this when he gets back, but _technically_ I'm not supposed to be out of bed myself for the next few days…'

'Jack Sparrow!' roared the old doctor himself, stomping furiously back into the room. 'Back to bed with you right this instant, you scoundrel.' Clasping his hands apologetically, Jack slid out the door as the doctor began to daub some liquid into my wound that stung horribly.

I spent the majority of the next week staring aimlessly at the ceiling of my room, bored nearly to tears. The only bright spot of my day was in the evening, when Jack (who had somehow managed to persuade the doctor that he was fit to wander about the town) would bring me my dinner and tell me about all the sights he had seen that day. For some reason, each fight, each trick, each near escape of his own seemed so much more vivid when told through his eyes – I imagined that had I been there myself I would not have been more entertained.

Even when the pirate was not seated by my bedside, relaying stories to me, I often found myself thinking about him. Would he really take me with him, teach me to fly above the law, away from the troubles and cruelty of the world? Oftentimes I would be startled out of my daydreams by the thought of those glinting, black eyes, filled with mischief, but not with anger, more like a little boy who steals candy from the kitchen than like the heartless killers I had been told all pirates were. The thought of his eyes sent shivers up my spine, which I tried and failed to ignore.

* * *

After a week's time, the doctor finally decided that I was well enough to get up and go about the city. I soon fell into the rhythm of the place, and decided that I might as well get a job so that I could pay Jack back for everything he had done for me. I managed to get a position as a bartender at the same tavern that Jack had taken me to the night we arrived, and learned quickly how to stop the advances of drunken customers who took a bit more than just a friendly interest in me. 

'Now that,' said Jack, walking over to the bar one day as I slapped a man so hard across the face that he dropped to the floor, 'is more of an education than I could ever give you in terms of pirating.'

'Jack!' I said, and hastily began to wash out the dirty mugs in front of me. 'What are you doing here?'

'Two reasons, love,' said Jack, leaning against the bar. 'To get a large quantity of rum for my own personal use, and to make sure that you aren't getting into too much trouble.'

I stopped cleaning. 'I appreciate that,' I said quietly.

Jack shrugged. 'Well, I'm stranded here without a boat, and therefore have no way to go about pursuing Barbossa and my _Pearl_, so I might as well, eh?'

'Can't you join someone else's crew?' I asked.

Jack looked horrified at the thought and drew himself up to his full height. 'Love, there's a reason my name is _Captain_ Jack Sparrow,' he reminded me. 'I fully intend to sail my own ship out of this glorious port, under me own colours, with me own crew.'

I set down my rag and looked Jack square in the eyes. 'Let me help you,' I said. 'I'm getting a fair wage in this job, and I was planning on paying you back for the doctor and all, but instead let me buy a ship with the money. You can teach me how to sail and act as captain until you get your own ship back, and I can keep the ship and be a captain in my own right.'

Jack raised an eyebrow. 'Fair enough, love,' he said. And so, after a month's worth of hard work, we managed to bargain a suitable ship off the hands of an old pirate who was ready to give up sailing anyway. The ship was small enough that it could be sailed by only two people, if need be, which was fortunate because Jack had had no luck in finding a crew, and so it was that on a fine sunny morning, Jack Sparrow and I sailed out of Tortuga with the wind in our sails, a stock of rations, and (at Jack's insistence) a large quantity of rum.

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Can't forget the rum, of course. Please review! 


	7. Betrayal

A short chapter that Sparrabeth fans would kill me for having written. Please read and review! As always, I own nothing.

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7. Betrayal 

Jack taught me how to tie seven different kinds of knots and how to hoist the colours of the ship. He taught me the difference between port and starboard, how to steer a ship, how to load a cannon and fire it. He also tried to teach me how to sword fight, but I was dreadful at it, and he gave up quickly.

Most nights we simply sat on the deck, Jack sipping rum, and I contemplating how drastically my fortunes had changed in the last few months. Half of the time I wondered if I would wake up quite suddenly from this very pleasant dream to find myself back at the plantation, bound eternally to the pain and suffering I had grown up with.

'What do you think you'll do after you get your ship back?' I asked Jack one night.

Jack took a swig of rum and stifled a belch. 'Go back to thieving and pillaging, I suppose,' he said. 'What else are pirates good for, really?'

'And after that?' I was curious to see what Jack was planning to do with all of the wealth he would amass as a pirate.

Jack shrugged. 'Sail the seas forever, I suppose. Why?'

'Well, that's a bit silly,' I laughed. 'If you're not planning to buy anything with your plunder, then what's the point of sacking towns in the first place?'

Jack blinked. 'Amusement, maybe?' he muttered uncertainly. He passed me the bottle of rum and I took a sip.

'So pirates kill people for amusement?' I said sternly. If that was a large part of the profession, it was one I was seriously considering backing out of while I had the chance.

'Anamaria, love,' said Jack, leaning forward and putting a hand on my arm. 'I just want you to know that _I_ for one have never killed another soul, and I never intend to… well, maybe one, but we'll see about that if I ever get my bloody ship back. What I find fun about pirating is it causes a lot of distress and grief for pompous authority figures like Beckett, and even you couldn't say no to that, eh? Revenge, if you know what I mean.' He took another swig of rum, his eyebrow raised.

Well, when he put it that way, I really couldn't resist the idea of becoming a pirate.

Jack pulled his compass off of his belt and flipped it open, reading it with a look of intense concentration on his face. 'Hold these,' he muttered, thrusting the compass and his rum into my hands as he rushed to the wheel and adjusted our course. I sighed and flipped the lid of the compass idly open and closed before noticing, not much to my surprise, where it was pointing. I smiled ironically as my eyes followed the hand of the compass to the man at the helm of the ship – the one thing I wanted most in this world was Captain Jack Sparrow, the pirate who would not be caught.

'Well,' said Jack, sitting back down next to me, 'I think I'll be turning in for the night soon, so good night, Anamaria…'

'Jack,' I asked suddenly, 'do pirates ever get married?' The second the question was out, I cursed myself for having asked it.

'Of course they do, they're people too, you know,' said Jack somewhat scornfully. 'If they can fight and bleed and die like they do, then they can certainly fall in love too.'

'Have you ever fallen in love, Jack?' Again, I had no idea what compelled me to ask the question, and I wished I hadn't.

Jack laughed. 'With the sea, certainly. With me ship, obviously. Never with a woman, though – too dangerous, that. Now, if you're done interrogating me for tonight…'

But I had already risen to my feet. I don't know what made me do it – maybe it was because I knew he was uncatchable, but if Beckett could hold him for a day, then maybe I had a chance of snaring him for a few seconds too. What prompted me, I may never know, but before I could give myself a chance to reconsider, I kissed Captain Jack Sparrow full on the lips, revelling in the bristly feel of his moustache, in the taste of rum on his lips. And, to my astonishment, he did not pull away with a stern glare or a mocking laugh. His arm encircled my waist and he was pulling me closer into him, his lips pressing onto mine more and more intensely. My arms wound around his neck, the rest of my body went limp, and for what seemed like an eternity we stood there, two souls lost in the murky waters of the sea at night, defying whatever fate was in store for us as we fed off of each other's passion.

I surprised myself by breaking away first. My breath came in short pants as I felt Jack's grip around my waist loosen, and I managed to find my feet again before his arm had released me completely. I could not look him in the eyes, I don't know why.

'Good night, Captain Sparrow,' I said quietly, and fled to my chambers without another glance in his direction.

* * *

Jack and I were strangely silent around each other the next morning. We ate our breakfast without so much as a look passing between us, and when Jack informed me that we would need to make port at the next island we reached to restock on fresh water, it was in the strict voice of a naval commander, not the playful banter that he had used since the day I had met him. 

I was a fool for not seeing what was coming. As I wound my way through a thick jungle in search of a stream of fresh water, I cursed myself over and over for what I had done. Jack had not wanted it, he wanted his freedom, he did not want to be bound even emotionally to another being, and I had had no right to betray his friendship by leading him into temptation. From this point on, I would just be a distraction, someone he would fear to be around, and for the sake of his concentration, perhaps he would even leave me and go to find his ship alone...

I stopped dead in my tracks, and rushed back through the mass of branches and vines just in time to see my ship disappearing around the side of the island. From where I stood, I fancied I could see Jack standing at the helm, consulting his compass as the winds billowed in his sails and swept him off to wherever his ship was.

I could have cried in frustration. I had just lost my only friend, and my ship besides. I had betrayed the trust of my friend, the man I loved, and he in turn had betrayed me. Well, what should I have expected? He was a pirate. And what else were pirates good for?

I had two options: to pine away on the beach for a man I knew I could never have, or to join another pirate crew and make sure that one day Jack Sparrow paid me back for the ship he had stolen. It didn't take much thought for me to make up my mind – I was tired of being weak and reliant on others. So when another pirate ship stopped at the island two days later, I immediately asked to join the crew and was readily accepted on board. And for the next eight years I barely set foot on land.


	8. Compensation

At long last, the first scene involving Anamaria from CotBP. Please read and review! Disclaimer: All rights belong to Disney.

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8. Compensation

Whenever I decided I needed a change of crew, I went back to Tortuga. There was always some captain looking to pick up more hands, and I was not terribly particular, so long as the rations were fair, the men kept their hands to themselves, and the heading was set for somewhere interesting. So it was purely by chance that I happened to be back on land when I heard that Jack Sparrow was on the island and looking for a crew.

I had just left a crew after a long and violent argument with the captain – he had wanted me for a lover, and I said no and jumped ship as soon as we reached Tortuga. I was sitting in a tavern, drinking rum to quell the towering rage that was still simmering within me, when I heard a gruff voice behind me say, 'That's right, then, we need all the hands on deck that we can get.'

Abandoning my rum, I tucked my hair under my hat and pulled the brim low over my face before making my way over to the small table where a dirty-faced man with greying sideburns was sitting, talking to a very short man whose head barely could be seen over the table. I got into line behind the small man, and moved up to the table when he had signed his name on a register and left.

'Hello there, lad,' said the man, glancing up at me.

'Where are you sailing to?' I asked, deepening my voice as much as I could (from experience, I found it was usually best to pretend that I was a boy until I was on board the ship).

'Ah, you'll have to ask the captain that,' said the man mysteriously, 'but I assure you that if you join the crew, you'll be in for an adventure unlike any other. Care to sign?' He gestured towards the piece of paper before him.

'Never learned to write,' I answered truthfully, 'but I'll meet you at the docks tomorrow morning, on my honour.'

'Fair enough,' said the man jovially. 'Captain Sparrow will be glad to see you, I'm sure.'

I froze. 'Captain Sparrow, did you say?' I asked as casually as I could.

'Aye, that'd be the one,' said the man happily, 'and let me tell you, I sailed under his command a few years back, and a better man you won't find in any of the seven seas.'

I snorted, wondering briefly if we were even talking about the same person. 'Till tomorrow, then,' I said, turning and wandering out onto the rowdy streets of Tortuga.

I wasn't sure exactly how I felt at the idea of seeing Jack again. Certainly angry, as he had essentially marooned me the last time we'd met, but, as much as I tried to quash the feeling, I still felt my heart growing strangely weak at the thought of just being near him. I shook myself. If there was one thing I'd learned from my years as a pirate, it was that the self came first, and all others afterwards. Jack had left me to die, for all he knew, and I could not let myself forget that. And so it was with the full intention of giving him a piece of my mind that I stormed down to the docks the next morning.

A line of men had already assembled along the quay, and Jack was perusing the potential crew members before him, accompanied by the man I'd met at the tavern the night before, and another very handsome young man with large brown eyes and wavy brown hair tied back in a ponytail. I edged to the end of the line and stood with my head down and my hat all but obscuring my face. Jack was in the middle of interrogating a man with a blue-and-gold macaw on his shoulder.

'Mr Cotton!' he shouted. 'Answer me.'

'He's a mute,' the man with sideburns explained. 'Poor devil had his tongue cut out…' I watched as Jack made a horrified face at what I presumed was the living proof of this mutilation '… so he trained the parrot to talk for him. No one's yet figured how…'

Jack turned in my direction for a moment, and I felt my stomach flutter slightly at the sight of his face.

'Mr Cotton's parrot,' said Jack in a slightly aggravated voice, turning towards the parrot on the man's shoulder. 'Same question.'

The parrot ruffled its feather and squawked, 'Ready to sail! Ready to sail!'

'There, now,' said Jack cheerfully, turning to the young man behind him. 'Satisfied?'

'Well you've proven they're mad,' said the young man in a completely unconvinced voice.

I had to agree with him. The men around me made up the most motley crew I'd ever seen, and I still had no idea where Jack was planning on going, and for what purpose. 'And what's the benefit in it for us?' I called, forgetting to deepen my voice.

I watched out of the corner of my eye in satisfaction as Jack froze, fearful recognition etched on every feature of his face. He wove nervously down the line until finally he stood right in front of me so that all I could see were the tips of his boots. I looked up as he cautiously tipped the brim of my hat upward and finally pulled it off my head so that my hair fell down and over my shoulders.

'Anamaria,' said Jack resignedly. The memory of his betrayal welled up inside of me, and before I could even consider stopping myself, I slapped him across the face.

'I suppose you didn't deserve that one either?' said the young man cheekily.

'No, that one I did deserve,' admitted Jack as he turned to face me.

I nodded in righteous agreement. 'You stole my boat!' I snarled in a very slow and menacing fashion, daring him to contradict me. Which, to my shock, he did.

'Actually,' began Jack, but before he could get another word out, I slapped him again, amazed at how much better it made me feel. '_Borrowed_,' insisted the pirate, wincing. 'Borrowed without permission, but with every intention of bringing it back.' He shot me a winning smile, which I pointedly ignored.

'But you didn't!' I reminded him, a bit more loudly than perhaps was necessary, but I was in no mood for daintiness.

'You'll get another one!' said Jack, failing to notice that I had not in the eight years since we had last seen each other.

'I will,' I hissed, pointing my finger threateningly at him so that he knew exactly where I expected to get said boat from.

'A better one!' the young man cut in, obviously trying to keep Jack from receiving any more blows.

'A better one!' repeated Jack, smiling broadly.

'That one!' added the young man, pointing to his left.

'What one?' said Jack, turning his head. The smile dropped off his face as the whole crew turned and stared at the handsome British naval ship that was moored at the end of the jetty. I smirked – it was certainly a much nicer ship than the one Jack had stolen from me. Jack obviously had realised it too.

'_That_ one?!' he muttered in surprise. The entire crew turned to see if he would say yes – my smirk widened as he fidgeted uncomfortably, torn between greed and his image.

'Aye, that one,' said Jack after a long moment, looking quite hurt. 'What say you?' He looked at me hopefully.

I glowered at him, marvelling at his nerve. 'Aye!' I shouted, and gave him a shove as the rest of the crew shouted and began to board the ship. As I walked towards the ship – sorry, _my_ ship – feeling most pleased with the way things were going, I heard the man with the sideburns trying to convince Jack that it was bad luck to bring a woman on board a ship. I continued to walk forward, smiling to myself as I heard Jack mutter, 'It'd be far worse not to have her.' _Right you are, Jack_, I thought, marching up the gangplank and looking for the first time at the deck of my ship.

* * *

'So, where exactly are we going?' I asked the man with sideburns (whose name, I had learned, was Mr Gibbs) on our first afternoon at sea.

'Ah, what's the nature of this venture, you're asking,' said Mr Gibbs, clearing his throat importantly as if about to begin a long and dramatic story. 'We're on a mission to rescue a beautiful girl from the clutches of a vicious crew of pirates, and restore her to the arms of her true love.'

My heart sank. Had Jack finally fallen in love then? I was surprised at how bitter I felt at this news. 'And where does he expect to find her, then?' I asked bleakly.

'Well, young Will Turner there is trying to track down the _Black Pearl_, seeing as that's where Miss Elizabeth would logically be. See, the crew of the _Pearl_ sacked the port town that Mr Turner is an inhabitant of and abducted the governor's daughter, Miss Elizabeth, whom by the looks of things Will is madly in love with – so, he sprung Jack from the jail and enlisted his help to find the _Pearl_ and save her from almost certain death.' Mr Gibbs finished his story and sat back, letting this last pronouncement fade dramatically in the silence. I breathed a sigh of relief – it was not Jack who was in love with this Elizabeth, then, it was this Will Turner.

'The _Black Pearl_,' I mused, putting the pieces of the puzzle together. 'That would be Jack's old ship, right?'

'Aye, that'd be the one,' Mr Gibbs affirmed.

'Thank you, Mr Gibbs,' I said, rising to my feet and walking over to the helm, where Jack was gazing at hiss compass and twitching the wheel to the right or left whenever he felt he was going a bit off course.

'Is that how you escaped from jail last time, Mr Sparrow?' I asked, leaning against the railing next to the helm. 'By promising a lovesick young man you'd help him rescue his dearly beloved?'

Jack did not look at me, but his face seemed to tighten. 'No, that time I managed to convince the dog outside my cell to drop the keys into my hand,' he said. 'Good trick to know. Almost worked this time too – you'd think the Navy would have figured out that keeping the keys next to the prisoners does not make for very good security.' He finally looked at me. 'And you're lucky it did work that time – before you start screaming at me again, please do remember that I saved you from a very ugly situation.'

'And that gives you full right to maroon me on an island and steal my ship, does it?' I snapped. 'I'd have thought that you would have a bit of sympathy, seeing as you know how it feels.'

'Look,' said Jack, 'I left you on a well-charted and often-visited island with ample food and water on it, knowing that you would be able to get back to Tortuga if you needed to, not on some godforsaken spit of land with nothing but a few palm trees and a load of sand. And I really did mean to give you the ship back one day,' he said, frowning as I rolled my eyes. 'I would have, if, due to an unfortunate and entirely unforeseeable series of circumstances that have nothing whatsoever to do with me, it hadn't sunk first.'

I scoffed. 'Well, you've paid me back, fair enough. I guess I'll have to drop the grudge, won't I?'

'You're a gem, Anamaria,' said Jack, smiling with relief. 'And I promise you won't be losing this one because of me, savvy?'

I put out a hand, which he shook, and then turned and strode back down to the deck, shouting orders at my crew as I went – I could see that a storm was approaching.

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That was fun. And sorry if I've gotten any of the dialogue wrong - I'll go back and rewatch the scene to make sure I got it right when I get the chance.


	9. Jealousy

Wow, I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update - junior year (ew) has been absolutely exhausting. At any rate, thank you for your patience, and thank you to all of my wonderful reviewers! Please keep the feedback coming - I love hearing from you!

So, here at last we introduce Elizabeth Swann. (Whom _I_ really don't mind - other than the fact she gets to kiss three very hot guys, which is SO not fair - so my opinion of Elizabeth is not the same as Anamaria's, just thought I'd clear that up right here and now.) As always, I don't own "Pirates." Waah.

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9. Jealousy

I hated Elizabeth Swann from the moment I set eyes on her.

Five days at sea, through storms and ship graveyards, and the girl who had just clambered onto the deck in front of me, sopping wet, did not look anywhere near worth the amount of trouble we had gone through to rescue her.

'Not more pirates!' she whined piteously, her pretty face screwed into an expression of the greatest distress.

'Welcome aboard, Miss Elizabeth,' said Mr Gibbs, taking a step forward.

'Mr Gibbs?' said Elizabeth, confused – I glanced from one to the other, wondering where on earth they had met.

'Hey, boy, where be Jack?' said Mr Gibbs gruffly to an equally-wet Will Turner, who had just climbed onto the deck. I could tell that Mr Gibbs was trying not to look too pleased at the fact that Elizabeth had recognised him so quickly.

'Jack?' said Elizabeth quickly. 'Jack Sparrow?' I narrowed my eyes at her tone of voice – she made it sound as though she and Jack were old acquaintances and it had just been announced that he had arrived for tea.

Will put a protective arm around Elizabeth's shoulders. 'He fell behind,' he said, an unreadable expression on his face as he steered Elizabeth down below the deck.

The entire crew turned and stared at Mr Gibbs, who was standing as still as though he had just been slapped. After a moment of obvious internal struggle, he said, 'Keep to the Code,' although the miserable look in his eyes betrayed the pain he was feeling at the loss of his friend.

For a moment I was inclined to shout, 'Are you crazy?!' and insist that we go rescue Jack. But then I thought again about the pitiful Miss Swann. Jack had known that there was a good chance he would get killed during the course of this adventure, and if he thought that either a ship or this detestable girl were worth death, then that was his problem, not mine. Gritting my teeth, I instead shouted, 'Weigh anchor!' and began ordering my crew about the ship, ignoring Mr Gibbs's regretful sighs.

* * *

'You know Jack, then?' I asked Elizabeth. She jumped in her seat when she heard my voice directly behind her.

'Yes,' she said, 'yes, we've met.'

'Care to explain when and where?' I sat down across the table from her and fixed her with a determined stare. She shot me a look of contemptuous superiority and flicked her hair over her shoulder.

'He saved my life. I fainted into the ocean, and he dove in to rescue me.' I resisted rolling my eyes – she made it sound as though being rescued by Jack was a unique privilege that only she was privy to. 'And then he was caught, so he threatened to kill me, and then escaped. And that was the last I saw him, although I know that they caught him anyway. Heaven knows why Will decided to spring him free.' She stopped and winced horribly in pain at the scratch on her hand. I could not stop myself from rolling my eyes this time – not only was the girl clueless, but she also had no sense of perspective whatsoever when it came to pain (I briefly imagined what her expression would be like if she was ever whipped).

'Well, I'm glad to see you appreciate the fact he just died for you,' I said sarcastically. Elizabeth looked up questioningly. With a snort, I turned on my heel and returned to the deck, nearly crashing into Will as I left the cabin.

'You might want to go bandage up that scratch on her hand – it seems to be giving her quite a bit of grief,' I snapped, gesturing below deck. Will gave me a startled look that could have stemmed either from concern for Elizabeth or else from confusion as to why I was so snappish, and hurried down the stairs.

'Captain,' said Mr Gibbs hesitantly. I whipped around and glared at him.

'_Yes?!_'

Mr Gibbs pointed wordlessly behind me. I ran to the edge of the railing and peered around the back of the ship to where he was pointing. I swore when I saw the _Black Pearl_ hot in pursuit behind us.

'I knew it would be bad luck to have more than one woman aboard,' muttered Mr Gibbs, wringing his hands.

'Well I'm so sorry to be half of your bad luck,' I snarled. 'I'll tell you this much, Mr Gibbs – if you only want one woman onboard, it'll be Miss Swann to go, not me.' The fierce look on my face made it only too clear that I was dead serious on that point. Mr Gibbs immediately retreated, lamenting the lack of rum on the ship in an undertone as he did.

'Heave to and set sail, mates!' I shouted over the crash of the waves. 'It looks as though we've got some company coming with us.'

In a flash, my entire crew was on their feet and following orders. Sails were hoisted, a new course was set, and all was confusion and footsteps on the deck as people rushed to and fro. I had been in several battles at sea before, and I always felt the same exhilarated rush when danger arrived, as if it was the first time all over again and I was about to test myself against Death, not knowing whether I would win or not. Baring my teeth, I gripped the wheel at the helm, feeling the need to fight well up in me.

'What's happening?' asked Elizabeth, popping her head up above the deck.

'The _Black_ _Pearl_,' I explained. 'She's gaining on us.'

Elizabeth peered at our pursuers, taking in the ship's billowing sails and the black mist that floated eerily about it. 'This is the fastest ship in the Caribbean!' she insisted.

'You can tell them that after they've caught us,' I replied shortly. Honestly, how stupid could this girl be? _Obviously_ a cursed ship with an undead crew was bound to be faster than even the best ship in the Navy.

Elizabeth bit her lip slightly. 'We're shallow on the draft, right?' she asked.

'Aye,' I answered in surprise, not having expected her to know anything about ships.

'Well, then can't we lose them amongst those shoals?'

I was too stunned to say anything. It was a good plan, I had to give her that much. Perhaps the girl wasn't as stupid as I'd thought.

'We don't have to outrun them long,' said Mr Gibbs, looking very proud of Elizabeth. 'Just long enough!'

Well, I certainly didn't have a better plan, loath as I was to execute one devised by Elizabeth Swann. 'Lighten the ship, stem to stern!' I called to my crew, watching again in pleasure as my orders were swiftly carried out. I rather liked being the captain, I decided.

All seemed to be going well, until Will put his foot down on top of a cannon to keep it from being thrown over board. 'We're going to need that,' he muttered darkly.

I looked over my shoulder behind me. Sure enough, the _Black Pearl_ had run out its sweeps and was now using the power of both the winds and its own crew to gain on us.

'It was a good plan,' I said to Elizabeth, 'up till now.' I figured that if I was going to die, I might as well acknowledge the girl's one moment of brilliance. I suddenly wished that Jack was there to alleviate the tense mood with some witty comment, anything to distract me from the fear that had unexpectedly washed over me. And I wondered how he had felt just before Barbossa had killed him. The thought that I was responsible made me feel sick.

'Gibbs!' Will was shouting. 'We have to make a stand! We must fight! Load the guns!'

It was almost sad, watching the poor boy trying to act all heroic when all was more or less hopeless. 'With what?' I asked sharply, not even needing to remind Will that we had just dumped all of our ammunition overboard.

'Anything. Everything! Anything we have left!' cried Will passionately.

I shrugged. Might as well go down fighting, like a true pirate. I gave Mr Gibbs a half-hearted nod and tried not to show any fear as he raced up the length of the ship, barking orders to the crew and watching as they stuffed everything available into the cannons.

'The _Pearl_ is going to luff up on our port quarter. She'll rake us without ever presenting a target,' he panted as he rushed back to my side.

I bit my lip. We were lost. My crew was about to smashed to bits by the cannons of the bloody _Black Pearl_, and there was absolutely nothing I could do. I briefly toyed with the idea of telling everyone to abandon ship, but what good would that do? We would still be captured and killed. I cursed myself, feeling utterly stupid that we had not at least tried to rescue Jack, seeing as the results of such an expedition would have turned out no differently from the fate that was about to befall us.

'Lower the anchor on the right side.'

I stared. Elizabeth was looking very pointedly at me. I raised an eyebrow.

'On the starboard side!' she repeated. How insulting – you'd have thought she thought that I didn't know which side was the right. I shot a quick glance at Gibbs, whose eyebrows were furrowed as he worked slowly through this new plan.

'It certainly has the element of surprise,' Will pointed out.

'You're daft, lady!' I said. 'You both are!' Facing death was one thing – suicide was another. And I would not be any more responsible for the deaths of my crew than I had to be.

'Daft like Jack!' Mr Gibbs's face was suddenly alight with a reckless fervour. I suppressed a groan – what sort of madness was about to occur? Before I could stop him, he was shouting more orders at the crew, all of whom were obeying him, much to my annoyance. With a loud splash, the anchor was dropped overboard. A second later, I winced as a loud cracking sounds made it quite clear that we had just run into the shoals.

'Let go!' Elizabeth shouted to me. I quickly let go of the ship's wheel, which I had been gripping as hard as I could in an attempt to alleviate my anxiety.

As the _Interceptor_ slowly rotated to face the _Pearl_, I could see the jeering faces of the many pirates on the decks, screaming and laughing at us. A fierce hatred suddenly filled me – these were the men who had killed Jack, who had dared to murder the pirate who would not be caught, the man who had bravely laughed in the face of death so many years before as he lay captive on the floor of a heartless man's study…

'Fire!'

And with that scream, the air between the ships was suddenly filled with the smell of gunpowder and the boom of cannons. I seized a rifle from a nearby crewmember and, loading it quickly, fired at random into the billowing cloud of smoke, praying that, with each shudder the recoil of the rifle sent through my arms, I would somehow become absolved from the cruel fate to which I had abandoned Jack.

It was impossible to discern what was happening, for everything seemed to be occurring at once. Screams filled the air, mingled with bloodthirsty shouts and the splash of water. I dashed across from the helm down to the main deck, keeping as low as I could. The first people I saw were Gibbs, Will, and Elizabeth, all three firing haphazardly over the edge of the boat.

'We could use a few more ideas, lass,' yelled Gibbs over the blasts.

'Your turn,' Elizabeth screamed over the din as she aimed a shot at the _Pearl_.

Gibbs shook his head as I stole up behind them.

'We need us a devil's dowry,' he muttered desperately.

'We'll give them her,' I snarled, grabbing Elizabeth roughly from behind and aiming my pistol at her head. I was in no mood for sympathy and understanding. _She_ was what had gotten us stuck in this mess, and if Jack hadn't so stupidly decided to go after her… I gritted my teeth. I would not feel anything for Jack at this moment, not when he had thrown away all our lives for this pathetic creature. Not when he had sacrificed his own life for a girl who was not worth half the price. I would not let myself.

Will looked alarmed at the fierce, unyielding look on my face; he seemed to realise that I was completely serious. 'She's not what they're after,' he said slowly.

To my revulsion, his eyes wandered from Elizabeth's face down to her chest. Really, was that all some men thought about, even when on the verge of being captured and killed by a band of notoriously merciless pirates?

Elizabeth followed his eyes, and her eyes grew wide. 'The medallion!' she gasped, staring wildly at Will, who returned her look of shock and leapt up.

I let go of Elizabeth and was about to stand and ask where he was going… when I heard a sickening crack. Looking up with a sinking feeling in my stomach, I saw the mast of the _Interceptor_ fall, as if in slow motion.

Damn.

I knew what was coming. Grabbing my rifle, I aimed carefully as the first pirates began to swing across the distance between the ships on ropes. I shot and reloaded until I was out of bullets. And then I drew my sword. I felt rage building up inside me. I hated the accursed pirates leering at me from across the deck. I hated Elizabeth Swann for having been captured by the crew of the _Black Pearl_. I hated Jack for having been so stupid as to go rescue her. And, most of all, I hated myself for having abandoned him, for having been so selfish and unforgiving. With a cry of rage, threw myself into the mêlée.

* * *

Well of course you all know what happens, but please keep reading nonetheless! Once I get past the events of "Curse of the Black Pearl" (which I'm trying to keep as accurate as possible), we'll return to the romance in the story, I promise! 


	10. Morality

OK, before I do anything else, I want to apologize to everyone for taking SO LONG to update... I'll bet you'd all thought I'd stopped writing this story, didn't you?! (Which, admittedly, I did let it sit for quite some time... I blame high school basketball, and high school in general, for that...) At any rate, I'm really sorry, and I appreciate your patience. I'll try to update MUCH more frequently in the future...

So this chapter includes a lot of dialogue you've already heard, and some you haven't, including a lot of internal angst and such. Hope it's not too tedious... please review and tell me what you think!

As you already know, "Pirates" and all of the characters involved belong to Disney.

* * *

10. Morality 

'Anamaria, are you all right?'

I was sitting on the dirty floor of the _Black Pearl's_ brig. It took me a moment to realise that Will was shaking me gently by the shoulder. My mind was reeling with flashes of everything that had happened in the past hour… Jack, swinging on a rope through the smoke of the cannons onto the deck of the _Interceptor_… the feel of rough hands on my arms as a burly pirate seized me and dragged me, howling and kicking, onto the _Black Pearl_… the resounding boom as the _Interceptor_ exploded in a ball of fire… the look of hope on Elizabeth Swann's face as a dripping Will Turner bounded onto the railing of the _Pearl _and demanded Elizabeth's freedom… the slightly mad look on Jack's face as he dove gracefully into the warm waters of the Caribbean after his sword and pistol, Barbossa's laugh echoing gratingly after him…

'Anamaria?'

I looked up quickly. Will was staring down at me, concern etched in his face.

'Sorry,' I grunted. 'Just thinking…' I cleared my throat and gestured awkwardly for Will to sit down next to me. There was not much room in the brig, but he lowered himself to the ground, stretching his legs out in front of him with a sigh.

I glanced at the young man seated next to me. He was certainly good-looking, with his tanned, muscular arms and his large brown eyes. It made me smile to think that I might have fallen in love with him, if my heart had not already been captured by a different pair of twinkling black eyes…

'How did you end up here, anyway?' asked Will, gesturing towards the group of sullen pirates strewn about the brig. I raised an eyebrow.

'I could ask you the same thing,' I answered. 'Why do you want to know?'

Will shrugged. 'Curiosity, I guess. Not every day one meets a female pirate, and a good one at that.'

His compliment mollified me somewhat. 'My career as a pirate starts and ends with Jack Sparrow,' I said.

'_Captain_ Jack Sparrow,' Will corrected automatically. 'I'd suspected as much, from the greeting you gave him.'

I smiled. 'Well, there you have it. There's not much else to the story.'

This time it was Will who raised his eyebrow at me. 'Or, at least, there's not much more you're going to tell me.'

I was glad he understood. 'You?'

Will sighed and looked away. 'I was a blacksmith's apprentice,' he said slowly. 'A good, honestly, law-abiding man who aided in the capture of a dangerous fugitive, and set him free only hours later.' He looked up at me. 'And it's strange to admit it, but if I had to go back to that kind of life, I don't think I'd survive. After having lived like this, I'd feel so…'

'Confined.' I nodded. 'Honesty, or at least whatever His Majesty the King defines as honesty, is a small price to pay for freedom.'

I had never thought that I could understand a man who was madly in love with a girl as flighty as Elizabeth Swann, but my respect for William Turner had grown tenfold in the last few minutes. It was nice to know that just because he was in love with a governor's daughter didn't mean he felt constrained by the rules of her society.

We sat listening to the lap of the waves against the hull of the ship for a few moments. I wondered how many of the blanks Will had filled in for himself about my relationship with Jack – the comment he made when I had seen Jack again for the first time, 'I suppose you didn't deserve that one either,' was enough to make me slightly suspicious. I toyed with the idea of asking him exactly what he presumed I had been through with Jack, but decided against it.

'You mentioned something about your father,' I said finally. 'Up there, when you were threatening to shoot yourself.'

Will nodded, a slight frown creasing his forehead. 'My father…' He broke off as two grimy pirates stomped down the stairs, grumbling and carrying a pair of mops and a pail of what might have once passed for grimy water.

'Yes?' I prompted.

'… Was a good man, and a pirate,' continued Will. 'And it's his blood that's gotten us all into this mess.' Before I could ask what any of this meant, Will had risen to his feet and walked to the bars of the brig, where he could view the pirates more clearly.

I sighed and found myself wishing for nothing more than to be seated at my favourite tavern back in Tortuga, throwing down a mug of rum. Closing my eyes, I tried to block out the sounds around me one by one… Cotton's parrot squawking … Gibbs saying, 'Cotton here says you missed a spot' to one of the pirates swabbing the brig… the wet splat of the mop as the pirate brandished it through the bars at Gibbs… Will's voice quietly asking the pirates, 'You knew my father?'…

I could no longer fight the exhaustion that had been threatening to overwhelm me since the battle. A few moments later, I was fast asleep.

* * *

When I awoke, it was dark on the ship. A sole lantern, its glass panels flecked with wax and salt, swayed unsteadily from the ceiling, casting eerie shadows about the brig. The creak and groan of the wood of the ship added to the ghostly feel of the vessel. I had been on many ships before, of course, but for some reason this one reeked of the supernatural, and every noise was enough to make me jump.

'Captain?'

I blinked as Marty's face came into focus above me, and sat up quickly. The little man jumped backwards in alarm.

'Where's Will?' I demanded, noting that he was no longer amongst the rest of my crew.

'They took him, Captain,' said Marty apologetically. 'Right after you fell asleep.'

I slapped the ground in frustration. Were all the people I cared about going to be snatched from under my nose? Jack, Will… who was next? Mr Gibbs? Marty? Cotton?

'Stop calling me "Captain",' I ordered Marty. 'I haven't got a ship any more, so I'm not a captain.'

'That's never stopped Jack,' muttered Gibbs, a slight smile glimmering on his face for a moment. He must have remembered the next moment what had happened to Jack, for the next time I looked at him, his face had drooped into a resigned frown.

'What're we going to do?' groaned Marty, sitting down (which did not change his height much). 'Wait for them to come finish us off, too?'

I shrugged. 'Do you have any good escape plans? Because if you have any ideas as to how to get through the bars, past any guards they have on the ship, and then back to some body of land that is NOT the Isla de Muerta…'

We all sighed in dismay and sat in silence for I don't even know how long. I let my mind wander to Jack. I wondered what he was doing… probably enjoying a nice, romantic evening with Elizabeth Swann on the beach of their own private island, I thought in disgust. How I hated that girl at the moment…

I was so wrapped up in my envy that I completely ignored the splashes and yelling coming from the deck of the _Pearl_ until a series of rapid footsteps jerked me out of my vengeful reverie. To my shock, who should appear in the stairwell but Elizabeth Swann, clad in a British naval uniform.

'It's Elizabeth!' cried Gibbs unnecessarily.

Well, I reasoned, at least she wasn't still stranded on the island, all alone with Jack.

'Where's Jack?' I demanded.

'Leading the Navy in an attack against Barbossa's crew,' said Elizabeth breathlessly. She pulled a rusty key from her pocket and shoved it into the lock. It turned with an ear-piercing screech of protest. 'Quickly now, we don't have much time!'

Bewildered, we all filed out of the brig after her and started to rush up the stairs, but Elizabeth held out a warning hand before we could reach the deck.

'They're up there,' she whispered, her brown eyes huge with nerves.

I carefully peered out onto the deck and gasped as I noted two skeletal figures with their backs to us, looking down over the edge of the boat. So there really was a curse. Immediately, every ghost story my mother had told me around the fire as a young girl pushed any thought of pirating, sailing, or even Captain Jack Sparrow out of my head. If he wanted to lead an attack against these hellish fiends, he would have to do so alone – I for one valued my life!

I shuddered and turned to retreat back down the stairs, as if that would save me from whatever evil powers were at hand… when suddenly I spotted a longboat, swaying slightly from a pair of ropes. I glanced at Elizabeth, who followed my gaze and nodded after a moment. Maybe the girl wasn't so daft after all.

Gesturing towards my crew, we crept silently up onto the deck, lined up behind the boat, and, with a whispered count of three from Elizabeth, shoved the boat as hard as we could at the cursed pirates. I was not the only one to cheer with relief when we heard them splash into the dark waters below.

'All of you with me,' cried Elizabeth, rushing forward with a determined look on her face. 'Will is in that cave and we must save him. Ready? And heave!'

She turned to see all of us standing absolutely still. I wasn't looking at any of my fellow crewmates, but I could tell they were all thinking the same thing – as likeable as Will Turner was, I was _not_ ready to give my life to save him from a crew of pirates that could not be killed. I couldn't see how our motley crew of fifteen or so could be of any help, and so I was quite content to let the British Navy rescue Will.

'Please, I need your help!' said Elizabeth, obviously frustrated. I almost felt bad for her.

Cotton's parrot squawked. 'Any port in a storm!' it croaked in its monotone voice.

'Cotton's right, we've got the _Pearl_,' said Gibbs, voicing my thoughts exactly.

'And what about Jack? You're just going to leave him?' Her words struck a nerve this time. I felt a tinge of guilt and opened my mouth hesitantly.

'Jack owes us a ship,' said Marty stubbornly. I closed my mouth. He _did_ have a point. The mention of Jack owing me a ship brought back too many memories of standing on a beach, utterly betrayed, watching my only friend sail away in _my_ ship, leaving me to who knew what fate…

Marty was right. I did my best to convince myself that abandoning Jack would be no worse than what he had done to me. (I did my best to ignore the little voices in the back of my head that were reminding me that I was abandoning him to the mercy of a band of ruthless, undead pirates who hated him.)

'And there's the Code to consider,' added Mr Gibbs. My confidence in my decision boosted a bit further – even Mr Gibbs, who idolized Jack, felt leaving him was justified.

'The Code,' repeated Elizabeth, disbelievingly. My conscience nipped irritatingly at my sense of reasoning again. Jack had already tried to kill Elizabeth during the one meeting they'd had – why, then, was she so eager to save him when all of us, his shipmates, his crew, his fellow pirates, were ready to put our rudder to this accursed isle and leave him to whatever fate befell him?

'You're _pirates_,' pleaded Elizabeth. 'Hang the Code, and hang the rules! They're more like guidelines anyway.'

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr Gibbs flinch. Damn it. Was this girl going to send our senses of morality chasing themselves in circles all night long? I caught Gibbs's eye and raised an eyebrow. _So, what do we do?_ was the unspoken message that passed between us in that glance.

'Miss,' said Gibbs slowly, clearing his throat. 'You've just said it yourself. We're pirates. And that means that we fend for ourselves first. Now, if you want,' he continued, placing a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder and leading her to the railing where they stood staring out at the moonlight dancing on the waves between our ship and the skull-shaped island, 'we can put you in a little boat with an oar and send you out to do what you can. But here's my reasoning.'

Gibbs took a deep breath and sighed, his shoulders rising and falling like a wave, before continuing.

'You're young and in love with Master Will, and that's all very well,' he said. 'But whenever you go into battle with pirates what can't be killed, Miss Elizabeth, it's usually a good idea to remember that you're the one's going to end up dead.'

'But if we all go out to fight together…' began Elizabeth.

'We'd all end up dead,' finished Mr Gibbs calmly. 'If it's a fight to the death and one side can't die… well, obviously you see what'll happen.' He turned to face Elizabeth, whose jaw was jutting out slightly in defiance. 'Listen to me, Miss Elizabeth,' he said softly. 'Will wouldn't've wanted you to die needlessly for his sake. Come with us, away from this place. We can drop you back at home, so long's your father doesn't try and hang us for our pains…'

'I can't leave him, Mr Gibbs,' whispered Elizabeth. 'I just can't.'

Mr Gibbs sighed and scratched his head. 'Well, it's your choice,' he said resignedly. He glanced over at me. 'Captain, permission to give Miss Swann a boat?'

I had been watching in silence this whole time, torn between admiration and scorn. I could not fault Elizabeth Swann for being willing to give her life for a man she loved… but Gibbs was right. Perhaps it was just that I thought with a pirate's sensibility, perhaps it was just that I'd had my heart broken once, and had lost much of my sympathy for the more dramatic side of romance.

'You're sure this is what you want?' I said in a low voice, approaching Elizabeth. Her eyes glinted with tears in the moonlight. She nodded.

I sighed. 'Marty, Cotton, see if there's a boat aboard this ship that Miss Swann can take,' I ordered, not taking my eyes from this poor, foolish creature. 'And may whatever higher powers be protect you,' I added. Although I had no great love for the girl, I would feel ashamed of myself not to wish her well.

The entire crew watched the small boat as it propelled its way to the mouth of the cave. Then Mr Gibbs turned to me.

'So, what now, Captain?' he asked in a would-be casual voice that nonetheless betrayed his agitation.

I sighed. 'Let's fill our sails with whatever wind blows away from here tonight,' I said wearily. 'All hands on deck!'

Immediately, the crew fell to carrying out my orders as I marched down the deck barking at them. Perhaps I made all of my demands a bit too specific, but I needed something, anything, to distract me from the lithe man with twinkling black eyes who I knew was going to his doom behind me…

As I reached the end of the ship, I looked upwards to where the full moon had finally emerged from behind the clouds and was shining through the holes in the sails.

'And, Mr Gibbs,' I added with a frown, 'we'll have to see about getting new sails as soon as possible…'


End file.
